


Our Infinity.

by whyamIalwaysLoislane (Whyamialwaysloislane)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Claudia Stilinski, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - The Fault In Our Stars, Augustus Waters!Stiles, Blind Scott McCall, Cancer, Cancer!Derek, Fluff, Hazel Grace Lancaster!Derek, Leukemia, Lots of Cancer, M/M, Sad, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, TFiOS, gross sobbing, the fault in our stars au, this hurt me writing it, this is not a happy story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1862754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whyamialwaysloislane/pseuds/whyamIalwaysLoislane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek hale likes books, one in particular. He has an obsession with bad reality TV and has a stuffed wolf called bluie. Normal kid really.</p><p>Think again.</p><p>Derek hale has Cancer. He's never been anything but terminal; his final chapter was written upon diagnosis.</p><p>Not like his beautiful plot twist Stiles Stilinski, he's on a roller-coaster that only goes up and he's taking Derek for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Infinity.

**Author's Note:**

> Update!! I've fixed most of the spelling mistakes and put in the bits I just missed out!! Like the oblivion bit!! Okay? :):)
> 
> I've been wanting to do this for a really long time, and I went to see the movie on Tuesday and started it when I got home.  
> I've split it into 2 chapters. Cutting off at the dinner scene.  
> I've took quite a bit from the movie and direct quotes from the book.
> 
> Derek is Hazel.  
> Stiles is Gus  
> Scott is Isaac
> 
> LOTS OF CANCER! THIS IS NOT A HAPPY STORY!! 
> 
> Rated Mature for Strong Language.

 

Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother declared I was depressed. Probably because I never left my bed, read the same book over and over again, and spent most of my free time thinking about death.

Most cancer booklets will count depression as a side effect of cancer. But it's not really; it's a side effect of death. Almost everything is, really.

However my mother decided that I needed treatment. Doctor Deaton raised my meds and encouraged me into going to a regular support group. Support group consisted of a rotating cast of cancer kids, sat in the heart of Jesus whilst Group leader Finstock recounted his tale of testicular cancer, that lead to his divorce, addiction to video games and exploiting his cancertastic past through songs.

There was a routine: name. Age. Diagnosis. And how are you today? I'm Derek. I'd say. I'm seventeen. Thyroid originally but with an impressive and long settles satellite colony in my lungs.  And I'm doing okay.

Most of the people here would get better, live long cancer free lives and move on. This just gave the group a sense of competitiveness. Everyone in the group wanting to beat not only the cancer that put them here, but everyone else in the room. One in five stats of winning. It leaves you with the mentality of you got to outlive four of these bastards.

The gist is support group sucks.

The only redeeming feature was Scott. Scott had a rare eye cancer that meant he lost one eye, and wore really thick framed glasses that made his eyes (both real and fake) look massive. He had floppy brown hair and an uneven jaw. We corresponded in a series of eye rolls and sighs. He'd sigh and I'd reply with an eye roll.

I'd say we were friends.

 

* * *

 

 

 

But still I did mostly everything I could to get out of it, my most convincing argument (it failed) was born on the day I made the Acquaintance of Stiles Stilinski.  
  
"Mom," I said as my mother walked into the room. She turned arms full of paperwork and meds. Cancer came with a lot of legal proceeds.

"Yes, Der." She replied, placing the papers on the side and coming over to run her hands through my hair.

"With much thought I've decided I do not wish to attend support group anymore." I said with what I thought was determination. Until she laughed.

"Sweet honey." She removed her hand from my hair and began filtering through the papers.

"Come on mom, America’s next model is a wonderful activity that I'm interested in. With a passion." I whined, moving from my position on the couch to perch in the kitchen, Isaac following behind my legs. Isaac is my oxygen tank. Why Isaac? You may ask. Well to be honest he just looked like a Isaac.

"Television is passivity." My dad said from his place in front of the stove.

"Ughhhh."

"Be a teenager, kid. Do kid things." My dad tried, handing me a wooden spoon with his latest concoction on it. I took the spoon, tried the food and nodded in a grumpy manner. Not letting him distract him from the matter at hand.

"You should buy me a fake ID, so I can get drunk and take pot." I pouted.

"You don't take pot." Dad shook his head moving back to the pot on the hob.

"I would know that with a fake ID." I complained as my mom walked in.

"Derek. You deserve a life."

I've got to say that shut me up. Mom promised to record the next four episodes of ANTM and I climbed into the car with a lot of protest. But it was weaker than original.  
  
Mom pulled up out outside the Heart of Jesus and I climbed out, dragging Isaac behind me. The heart of Jesus was one floor down from the actual church, there was the option of an elevator, but that was really last day stuff. So I went down the stairs.

Scott wasn't alone today and his friend was staring.

At me.

It wasn't creeper kind of staring. His mouth was parted slightly into a soft O, and his eyes, which looked like molten gold, where focuses on me. It was a nice kind of staring. However it did make me feel rather self-conscious.

I could be attractive, I had a jaw line and the possibility to have muscle mass but Cancer stripped me of it. I was skinny, short dark hair and chipmunk cheeks due to treatment. I never bothered dressing up; today I was just wearing distressed blue jeans and an oversized jumper with thumb holes, which had to be my favourite thing since AIA.

The boy who was staring, well, he was gorgeous. Brown hair, molten gold eyes, mole speckled skin and plaid shirt over a Star Wars t-shirt. His lips slipped into a smirk, as I walked over to take the seat by Scott.

He still stared.  So I stepped up to the challenge. And stared back.

He was the first one to look away, eyes forward to Finstock, who had begun retelling his angst ridden tale of ball-less-ness, and smiled.

Not a one sided cocky boy smile. His real grin. Too big for his face. Upturned nose wrinkling.

"Scott why don't you start?"

"Erm, hey, I'm Scott, I'm seventeen. And in a few weeks I'm going to have surgery that will result in my blindness. It could suck worse but well I have my girlfriend Allison. And my best bro, Stiles." He turned to the boy. "There's nothing else you can do really."

"We're here for you Scott."

There were seven others before they got to him. His voice was deep and as he stood his fingers tapped his denim clad leg.

"My Name is Stiles Stilinski. My parents kind of hate me so I was named something unpronounceable even in Polish. I'm seventeen. I had a touch of osteosarcoma a year and a bit ago, and when I was younger had a scare with leukaemia but I'm here at my buddy Scott's request."

"And how are you feeling, stiles?"

“Oh, I'm grand." A corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. "I'm on a rollercoaster that only goes up."  
When it was my turn I said my bit; "Derek, seventeen, thyroid with Mets in my lungs. I'm okay."  
  
Finstock asked us about our fears today. Kira said she feared death. And to be honest you'd be stupid not to.

"Stiles, would you like to share some of your fears with the group?"

"Fears?"

“Yes.”

"I fear oblivion." "I fear it like the proverbial blind man who's afraid of the dark."

"Too soon, dude."

"Was that insensitive?" He asked, face supposed to be serious but a smile was cracking the corners. "I can be pretty blind to people's feelings."

Scott was laughing but Finstock was glowering and cough to bring the attention back to Stiles.

"Sorry ADHD." Stiles shrugged but let Finstock reroute the conversation.

"You said you fear oblivion?"

"I did."

"Would anyone like to expand?"

I felt pretty timid, but shaking my raised my hand.

I hadn't been in a real school in almost three years this spring. My parents and my two sisters where my best friends. And my confidant was an author who did not know I existed. I was not the hand raising type.

But still I raised my hand, thumb peeking out of the hole in the jumper.

"There will come a time when all of us are dead." I began. "All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten, and all of this will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does."

After I finished there was silence and stiles grinned.  The big smile that took up most of his face and was kind if blinding.

"Goddamn." He said quietly. "Aren't you something."  
  
At the end of the support group and I began walking up the stairs when a stopped me.

"What's your name?" Stiles asked, walk smooth for an amputee.

"Derek."

"No, your full name."

"Derek Hale. No middle name." I had a middle name; I just disliked it with a passion.

"Okay Derek no middle name Hale." Scott appeared by his side. "Hold on." He turned to Scott. "That was actually terrible. Why didn't you make more of a deal about that? Jesus."

"I told you it was bleak."

"I don't know. It kind of helps."

Stiles leaned over to Scott's ear and whispered, like I couldn't here. "He's a regular?" Scott nodded. He clasped Scott by the shoulders and took a step away. "Scotty tell Derek about the clinic."

Scott told his story, he had said to his doctor that he'd rather be deaf than blind. The doctor was a douche bag and 'it doesn't work like that, but the good news is, you won't be going deaf.'

"He sounds like a winner. I'm going to try to get a bit of eye cancer to meet this guy." I said.

"Awesome." Scott smiled, before nodding. "Alright I got to go, Allison's waiting for me. I got to look at her while I can."

"Counterinsurgence tomorrow?" Stiles asked and Scott nodded.

"Yup." Scott turned and ran up the stairs taking them two at a time.

Stiles turned to me. "Literally."

"Literally?"

"We are literally in the heart of Jesus." He said. "I just thought we were in a church basement, but we are literally in the heart if Jesus."

"Someone should tell Jesus. It can't be healthy storing kids with cancer in your heart."

"I would tell Him myself. But I am stuck inside his heart. I don't think he'd be able to hear me."  
Stiles stopped, in favour of looking at me.

"What?" I asked, adjusting my sleeve. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Because you're beautiful." Stiles grinned. "I enjoy looking at beautiful people. I decided long ago not to deny myself the simple pleasures in life."

I blushed. I knew my ears where doing the thing. Because I couldn't be given any simple pleasures in life, I had to blush like a weirdo as well. I didn't blush. My ears did. And at the moment I could feel them heating.

"Come watch a movie with me." Stiles asked when they'd climbed the stairs out of the literal heart of Jesus.

"What?" I asked, spluttering. "Wha- you could be an axe murderer."

"There's always that chance isn't there, Derek Hale." Stiles smirked, plucking of all things a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"You're kidding right?" I snapped, kicking Isaac a little bit in my disappointment. "What you think that's cool? Even though you had freaking cancer you are willing to give money to a corporation to acquire even more cancer. You just ruined this whole thing."

"The whole thing?" The smirk ran from his lips into his voice. I kind of wanted to kiss _and_ hit him. It was not a mixture I was used to.

"Yes the whole thing. Let me tell you. Not being able to breathe sucks. Ass."

"They don't actually kill you unless you light one."

"What?"

"I've never lit one." He smirked that crooked grin. "It's a metaphor you see. You put the killing thing between your teeth but you don't give it the power to kill you." He brought his hands up to make a ta-da gesture. "A metaphor."

"A metaphor?"

"I'm a big believer in Metaphors, Derek no middle name Hale." I looked from Stiles face and back to the street, where my mom was pulling in. She stopped by me and rolled the window down. I leant to its level and smiled.

"Mom I'm going to watch a film with Stiles Stilinski. Record the next thousand episodes of ANTM."

 

* * *

 

  
  
Stiles walked to his car, me trailing behind with Isaac. Scott and What I assumed was Allison, were sat on a park bench, holding hands and whispering 'because I love you' at the other.

"Young love." Stiles smiled at his friend, stopping for me to catch up. "They are cute now. But this 24/7, ugh it's just disgusting."

"Not a PDA fan?" Derek guessed.

"Oh I'm a big believer of PDA; just it sucks when you’re watching and not doing."

"You had much experience with doing?" I asked curious.

"Not really. I may appear like a jet setting heart breaker, but I'm really just a dork who likes metaphors." Stiles shrugs but continues. "There aren't many people who find metaphors attractive."

"Metaphors are attractive." I stated, low enough to pass off as a cough if stiles didn't hear but loud enough that he might hear. Stiles grinned to confirm he’d heard.

"And that's why you’re watching a movie with me." He stretched over and took Derek's hand. "Thumb holes. Damn that's cute."

I didn't say anything until we climbed into Stiles Jeep. It was a rusted shade of baby blue and purred like a kitten.

"Like cars?" Stiles asked, adjusting his leg to the pedals.  
Osteosarcoma sometimes takes a limb to check you out. Then, if it likes you, it takes the rest. I didn't even want to address the leukaemia.

“I like this one, my dad loves Jeeps, cars, all things that go vroom.” Stiles chuckled as he put the key into ignition.

“What do you drive?” Stiles asked, wiggling around in his seat as if prepping himself for driving.

“My mom’s Toyota and then I drool over my dad’s Camaro, until Isaac runs out.” I sighed, kicking Isaac with my shoe.

“Isaac?” Stiles asked, stalling the car.

“My oxygen tank.” I stared at the tank at my feet, and Stiles seemed to get it.

“He does look like a Isaac.” He smiled and I gripped the seat to stop myself from swooning and rocketing through the window. Stiles Stilinski was not a good driver.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, furrowing his brows at the gear stick as he changed gear.

“How did you pass?!” I exclaimed, a little concerned for my general well-being.

“Cancer perk.” His lip quirked up as he finally got us out of the car park. “I failed the test three times. My dad has this saying, if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern, what’s four? It makes sense to explain that he used to be the Sheriff. Gave it up when I got diagnosed with Osteosarcoma. My mom made so many jokes about four being God saying. STILES YOU WERE NOT BORN TO DRIVE. But I passed; it went as well as this is and I thought I’d failed and the guy said that whilst my driving is unpleasant it isn’t officially unsafe. Bam, Stiles Stilinski is loose on the streets of Beacon Hills Raising havoc since he can’t really start or stop well.”

“I’d say it’s unsafe.” I re-adjusted my seatbelt and loosened my grip on the seat.

“It’s not far.” The car jolted forward and Stiles smiled apologetically.

After the car ride from hell, Stiles pulled up outside a two story suburban house with a Sheriff car outside. Stiles parked the jeep and climbed out. He came round to open the door for me. I climbed out and smiled at him.

“MOM! DAD! I’m home!” Stiles said, shouldering open the door. He shrugged off his hoodie and slung it over a chair. “AND I HAVE COMPANY.” A head popped around the kitchen door.

“TOM! Stiles is home!” Another voice shouted out too what I assumed was the garden. A woman stepped into the front room with a plate of cookies. She was a tall woman, skinny with a buzzcut and a bandana around her head. She was dressed in a floating block print skirt and tank top. She pressed a kiss to Stiles cheek and walked around to me. “Nice to meet you…”

“Derek No-middle-name Hale.” Stiles said for me, picking through the cookies for that perfect cookie.

“Let the boy speak, Gościsław.” She chastised, slapping his hand from the cookies.

“It’s Just Derek.” I smiled, taking her hand and shaking it.

“Okay, Just Derek.” She sniggered to herself and picked the cookie plate up. “Cookie?”

“Thank you, Mrs Stilinski.”

“Oh, Please, it’s Claudia.” She smiled and I could see where Stiles got the big grin from.

A man came in through the back, mud on his pants and face, a beige shirt tucked into his trousers.

“How was support group kiddo?” He said, ruffling Stiles his hair. Stiles batted his hand away and returned to restyling his hair.

“It was dull as F-…fudge.” Claudia gave him a stern glare and he carried on. “However I met Derek.” He pointed to me; I’d sat on a chair with Isaac resting on my leg. Standing up for long periods of time stretched me a little too thin.

“Derek.” The man nodded at Stiles. “I’m Tom, Stiles’ dad. Ex-Sherriff of Beacon Hills. Like the cart.” He winked at me and moved over to kiss Claudia. “How long till grub, honey?”

“About an hour.” She smiled into the kiss and batted his mud drenched hand away.

“Oh, me and Derek are going to watch a movie.” Stiles smiled. “In my room.”

“The TV’s free.” Claudia stated her voice matter of fact. “Any eating requirements Derek?”

“I don’t eat meat.” I explained, moving with Stiles to the couch.

“Cool, we’ll make some meatless things. It’s it dietary?” Claudia asked. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine. I want to minimise the deaths I’m responsible for.” I said, thumbing the thumb hole in my jumper.

“That’s amazing, Derek.” Claudia smiled at me, before hitting Stiles on the head with a newspaper. “Stiles get off your leg and go make Derek a drink or find a movie.”

“Abuse!” He cried rubbing his head. “Movie then drinks?” Stiles asked eyes on me. I nodded. “Come on,” he stood up settling himself on his leg and helping me up. “Do you need? Isaac?” Stiles offered gesturing to Isaac.

“I’m okay.” I nodded and walked behind him. The stairs were steep and took some manoeuvring but Stiles kept an eye on me. The room was very boyish; unmade bed, Lacrosse trophies and sticks scattered.

“Lacrosse?” I asked, sitting on the unmade bed, letting the windows open breeze whip through.

“I’ve never been any good, it’s all Cancer perks.” He sat down beside me and smiled at me. “Tell me about yourself.” He gently nudged my arm and I flushed.

“Erm, I was diagnosed when I was thirteen-“ I began and he tutted.

“No, your real story. Your hobbies, your passions, your weird fetishes.”  He smiled, and once again it lit up the world.

“I am quite un-extraordinary.” I looked at him weakly.

“I reject that out of hand.” Stiles grinned, like the dork he is. “I’ll make you a deal, Derek No-middle-name Hale. You tell me one of your deepest passions and I’ll share one of mine.”

“Okay.”

I told him of An Imperial Alpha. It was stupid to tell him but I did. It was the story of teenagers being amazing and not needing help to breathe. There was the protagonist, a soft hearted boy called Tyler and his best friend. His best friend got Leukaemia; so Tyler helped his best friend, who narrates the story and is never named, start a charity for people with cancer who want to fight Cholera. The best friend’s dad starts dating Tyler's mom, and a grumpy FBI agent comes and threatens to get the Best friend’s dad fired and Tyler's dog gets sick and then it ends in the middle of a

“Then I give you this.” He presented a DVD into my palm.

“Star Wars?” I questioned.

“Yes.” Stiles nodded. “You must watch this.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

I didn’t wait for his call, or check my phone every ten minutes. It totally only occurred to me when he texted me. His anger at the book’s ending was adorable.

 

* * *

 

 

About two weeks later I was lying on the grass outside, Isaac beside me with my phone pressed to my ear.

“So this mysterious author?” Stiles asked.

“Illustrious and Mysterious.” I nodded, biting my lip.

“Impossible to Contact?”

“Yup.”

“Dear Mr. Stilinski.”

“Stiles.”

“SHH! I’m Narrating. Do you always interrupt when people read you things, God. Shush.”

I shushed.

As he read the letter, my adrenaline raced. He’d managed to track down Adrian Harris, via his Assistant Jennifer Blake, and e-mailed him his appreciation. Of course he’d sent him back an e-mail in code as only Harris could.

Stiles forwarded the address to me.

“…To be honest I’d read your grocery lists. Sincerely, Derek Hale.”

“Beautiful.” Stiles had replied. I smiled into the phone, trying to keep my heart beat down.

 

* * *

 

 

Harris e-mailed back. Inviting us to visit him if we happened to be in Amsterdam. My mom gave me the sad look she gives when she can’t give me the best of what life I have left and walked out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Can’t  you use your wish?” Stiles asked, as we walked out of the Support Group. Scott was in the ICU with terminal blindness, Allison sitting beside his bedside twenty four seven, so we walked out side by side.

“I already used mine. Pre-Miracle.” I shrugged.

“You didn’t.” Stiles stopped dead.  “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I was Thirteen!” I snapped back as he shook his head.

“I can’t believe I have a crush on a guy who used his dying wish to go to Disney Land. Oh my God.”

_Crush. Crush. Crush._

“I got a photo with Grumpy.” I shrugged, walking over to my mom’s car.

“Of course, Grumpy is your favourite Dwarf.”

“Who is yours?”

“Guess.”

“Dopey.”

“Damn. You know me too well Derek Hale.” He winked and climbed into his car.

 

* * *

 

 

“I bet you want to know why you are sat on a park, with a weird ass skeleton, eating bad cheese sandwiches with me in this god awful blue and orange shirt.” Stiles asked. That had honestly crossed my mind. I told him so.

“That honestly hadn’t crossed my mind!” I laughed at him and he pouted, adjusting his leg to face me.

“Well what to all these things have in common.”

“They’re a shade of orange that shouldn’t exist?”

“ORANGE!”

“Orange.”

“All these things are Dutch.”

“Yes they are.”

“What also is Dutch?”

“Dutch people?”

“Amsterdam.”

“Amsterdam?”

“Amsterdam.”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not giving you my wish, Derek Hale. I too wish to meet this Harris guy, but I really don’t see a point in going without the guy who introduced me to it in the first place.”

“STILES!” I hugged him. I hugged him as tight as my deoxygenated limbs could, and his hand cupped the back of my neck. It was intimate in a way that didn’t demand intimacy.

 

* * *

 

 

Long story short. My lungs suck. Dr Deaton confirmed I could go and then two days later my lungs gave way to too much fluid and I woke in the middle of the night. Screaming.

After so long of screaming you just realise that it’s not helping and you stop.

I was in the ICU for a good few days, living on crushed ice and having my lungs drained. To think I could have been a muscle man with angry eyebrows who bossed people around. I can’t even breathe for myself.

The doctors withdrew the permission for me to go to Amsterdam and I avoided Stiles, for as long as I could.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles is Persistent.

“DEREK!? STILES IS HERE!”

“Okay?” I asked him meekly as we sat on the porch.

“Okay.” He smiled back.

“Okay?” I asked again.

“Okay.” He said before grinning that stupid grin. “Maybe Okay will be our ‘Because I love You.” He smiled to himself.

“What?” I asked.

“Scott and Allison have this thing, like a mantra, a saying, that’s theirs, to them it’s Because I Love You. It’s sickening right. I had to pass it through notes in High School. But maybe Okay will be our Because I love You.”

I felt a bit sick. My stomach fell. The boy liked me.

“Stiles, I’m a grenade.”  I looked up at him fiddling with Isaac’s handle.

“What?” He said, face slacking.

“I’m a grenade, and one day I’m going to blow up and I’m going to obliterate everything in my wake, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” He whispered. I looked at him.

“What?”

“I wouldn’t mind, it’d be a privilege to have my heart broken by you Derek Hale.” I shook my head at him and walked inside.

 

* * *

 

 

“DEREK!”

“WHAT?!” I shouted back, Laura’s head popping around the corner of my door. My room was very child like, all baby blue with wolves painted on the walls. My family was very into wolves.

“Check your e-mail.” I did as was told. In my Inbox was a e-mail from Jennifer Blake.

“We’re going to Amsterdam?!?!” I exclaimed and Laura grinned.

“Call Stiles!” Laura shouted back, coming in to ruffle my hair and leaving.

“Okay, Lungs. Keep your shit together guys.”

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles Stilinski has never flown in a plane before and it was adorable.

“LOOK AT THE CARS!” He exclaimed, grabbing my hand and squeezing. “Cold.” He said, in direction of my hand.

“Not cold, more under oxygenated.” I laughed. My mom, sat beside us, shook her head.

"I love it when you talk medical to me, Derek Hale."

“You two are adorable.” She smiled, taking a sip of her water.

“We’re just friends.” I stated and Stiles leaned over me.

“He is, I’m not.” He shrugged and turned back to the window.

 

 

Stiles read poetry on the plane ride, whilst my mother slept beside us. His voice slow and low. As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep.

_Slowly._

And then all at once.

 

* * *

 

 

Amsterdam was stunning, Our room in the hotel had a BiPAP, two single beds and a sad little chair that sagged in the middle.

“This is for you, for your dinner with Stiles.” She pushed a box at me and grinned. It was a suit, navy blue tailored to my (skinny) build, with a soft blue dress shirt and brown shoes.

“It’s not a date.”

“It is too him. The way he looks at you Derek. It’s like you gave life meaning.” She sighed and turned back to her book.

Stiles showed up half an hour later, in a black dress suit, thin black tie and pale pink shirt. He looked gorgeous. I’d be lying if I didn’t say he made my heart skip a beat.

“Wow.”

“Wow.”

We both laughed and I grabbed Isaac and we headed out.

"Is it your funeral suit?" I asked as we walked along the canal bank. 

"No, that one isn't nearly as nice." He laughed, smiling at the sky. It was twilight and the sky shone with small stars. 

"Is it your-?" 

"Death Suit. I know I had 85% chance of surviving but I wanted to be sure." He took my hand in his and squeezed. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Champagne, on the house.” The waiter smiled, pouring the sparking drink into our glasses. We picked the glasses up, exchanged flirtatious glances and drank.

“Whoa.” I breathed.

“Holy Shit.” Stiles breathed. “That’s good.”

“Do you know what Dom Perignon said after inventing champagne? He called out to his fellow monks, ‘Come quickly: I am tasting the stars.” The waiter said, his smile taking up most of his face.

“We’re gonna need some more of this.” Stiles smiled up at him.

“Do not worry my young friends; we’ve bottled all the stars for you tonight.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m in love with you,” Stiles said catching my attention, “and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”

I couldn’t speak, I just watched him watch the boats float by on the canal. Watched the way the light hit his face, his turned up nose, casting shadows on his moles and all I wanted to say was me too.

I love you, Stiles Stilinski.

I really do.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't do the Monica storyline because Scott and Allison 5eva.  
> I hope I did it justice. Chapter 2 coming soooooooon.  
> I am going to Caroline Mather's story line in the second Chapter.  
> The next chapters going to hurt me  
> Hope it hurts you as much as it hurts me :D
> 
> -Megan
> 
> I Need a drink.


End file.
